09/26/24; 12:20pm
- the academy arc -
yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader
anonymous asked: Hello! I've always admired your writing, and finally thought of an ask for you! What about yandere jinwoo with an oblivious reader? Its kinda funny how the reader has so much influence over him, and dont realize it, after all, how could they think he's dangerous when he's all soft for them, and only them... Oblivious to all the danger he causes to others
warnings: incredibly dark themes; harassment and petty bullying.
you felt butterflies erupting all across your abdomen, feeling your gaze darting all across the new sights and scenery of your high school. feeling a bit uncomfortable, you pull at the collar of your blouse and adjusted your tie at least a hundred times leading up to this very moment.
tightening your grip on your bag, you hardened your resolve and nodded, stepping into the school with as much confidence that you could manage. avoiding the crowd of students, you kept to yourself and take the flight of stairs up to the second floor. you trail your eyes across the labeled classroom before entering the one labeled 2-a.
you pass by a boy wearing a single glove, reading his textbook while flipping the pages with a bored expression. he sits near the back row, and you take the opposing corner, trying to remain as small as possible while getting out your pencils and notebooks for the day.
the sight of you settled off to the side makes the boy stop reading, and you caught a glimpse of how he was staring at you from your periphery, but wasn’t brave enough to meet his gaze. instead, you distract yourself by writing reassuring mantras in your notebook.
it’s going to be fine.
today is the first day of class for everyone.
surely no one is going to notice how you’re the newbie.
as the minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of the students that walked in, laughing while talking about their breaks. just as the bell rings, signifying the start of the day, your homeroom teacher just had to notice you as he forced you to introduce yourself to the whole class.
throughout it all, you were a stuttering mess, forcing out the syllables that made up your name all while feeling like your knees would give away at any minute now. the heat was felt burning against your cheeks, traveling down the length of your neck by the end of it all. when the teacher lets out a grunt of approval, you sat back down as quickly as you could.
a rich chuckle was heard coming from your left, and you took a quick peek over to see the same, perfect boy who had been studying softly laughing at you. his attention was on his open textbook, but you could tell that he was still looking at you from his periphery, those grey eyes drawing you in-
you clear your throat and look away from him, feeling the warmth now spreading to the rest of your body. the hours kept ticking by until finally, it was lunchtime. you grab your lunchbox from the confines of your bag, but found that you didn’t have much of an appetite.
as you debated on what to do for lunch, a loud whistle makes you gasp, looking over to see a group of rowdy looking boys making their way towards you. you visibly stiffen, willing them to go away, but your prayers were all for naught when the entered the classroom, already sauntering their way closer to you.
“man, when i heard there was a new girl here, i didn’t expect her to be so cute.”
you cling to your lunchbox, ready to bolt when needed. your anxiety was shot through the roof now, watching as the boys came closer to you when they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. it appeared that they had a difficult time moving, like there was an invisible wall that kept them from coming closer to you. noticing their strange behavior, you visibly relax, watching their stiff movements as they walked out of the classroom and fell into a pile in the middle of the busy hallways.
laughter was heard erupting all across the hallways, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. the same soft chuckle was heard, and you look upwards to see your classmate standing before you. he had perfect, ebony locks of hair with grey eyes that shone with a startling clarity. “hey, are you alright?”
“oh, i’m fine! thank you for asking…”
the boy shakes his head. “there’s no need to be so stiff around me. just think of me as your new friend.”
your mind was spinning now, practically on cloud 9 at the thought of having this cute boy as your new best friend. you smile up at him, watching as he sheepishly brushes back his hair before reaching out a hand for you to take. “the name’s sung jinwoo, and would you like to have lunch together with me?”
you nod and stand from your seat with your lunchbox in hand. “of course!”
jinwoo gives you a kind smile, stepping out of the classroom with you. you see the same rowdy boys glaring daggers at jinwoo, yet he doesn’t relent, standing protectively in front of you. the boys end up scoffing before walking away. as jinwoo leads you in the opposite direction, you remain blissfully unaware of how shadows seemed to dart away from jinwoo while aiming toward the group of boys who dared to make you uncomfortable.
{ … }
the trio of girls had purposely intercepted your walk to school, pulling at your hair before tossing you aside, making you land against the hard pavement of the sidewalk. you had the air knocked out of your lungs when you suddenly felt the contents of your packed lunch land over your head.
tears were felt filling at your eyes, and you watch as a girl leans down closer to you, her blond curls framing at her face while icy blue eyes glare down at you, “who the hell do you think you are, getting so close to my jinwoo like that?”
her lackeys stand beside her, all sneering at you while exchanging looks of disdain towards you. ah, it seems as though your seemingly perfect life was coming to an end, with jinwoo’s own fanclub coming after you now. you had barely been basking in your school life and newfound freedom with jinwoo for a month when the drama suddenly started.
it started about a week ago, when you found safety pins on your seat and your notebooks ripped to shreds. you did your best to ignore it while hiding your troubles from jinwoo, yet it only seemed to strengthen the bully’s hatred for you.
and now, it had come to a boiling point, as the three girls continued to mock and sneer at you, teasing you, making fun of all your imperfections while stating how you were a mere “charity case” for jinwoo.
by the end of their torment, you were a sobbing mess, all alone as the girls quickly left you behind with their harsh laughters echoing in your ear. the stickiness felt from having your lunch dumped all over you made you feel worse than you ever felt, and you knew that you couldn’t go to school like this.
while you were wallowing in your misery, you remain completely unaware of the way your shadow lengthened, reveal jinwoo as he steps out of it. he says nothing, simply falling down to his knees before taking you in his arms. “i was worried about you not being in class today.”
hearing his voice makes you cry out to him, facing him as you hugged him closer to you. jinwoo didn’t mind how messy your uniform was, simply holding you closer to his chest. he lets out soft coos of your name, allowing you to let out all of your tears and frustrations. while keeping your head kept protectively against his chest, his eyes began to glow a startling purple hue, already commanding his soldiers to get rid of three, new targets.
{ … }
after your encounter with the bullies, the next day, you felt a strange sense of dread consuming you. you truly wanted nothing more than to skip-
or transfer-
yet jinwoo stops you from even considering moving away from him. and after much convincing from his end, (“don’t worry, i’ll be by your side the whole time if those girls come back!”) you relent and head to school with him.
upon entering your classroom, you felt a strange sense of relief filling you. you saw no signs of those nameless, petty girls, and you visibly relaxed. upon entering the classroom with jinwoo, he seemed to flash you a knowing grin, as if silently telling you i told you so.
needless to say, with those girls seemingly gone, (maybe even transferred to a different school?), you were able to resume the peaceful school days with jinwoo by your side.
and of course, he shared his lunch with you because he “always made extra” and knew of your healthy appetite.
of course he walked home with you every single day after your club activities, simply because “it was dangerous for girls to walk home at night” and he was your “best friend who wished to keep you safe.”
you saw no red flags-
becoming so blinded by his own brilliance that it made you blissfully unaware of the neverending darkness settled in the depths of his heart and soul.
{ … }
it was amazing how you couldn’t see just how obsessed sung jinwoo was with you.
ever since that first day, where you had entered his classroom and introduce yourself, becoming a mess of stutters in the process-
you had completely captured jinwoo’s heart.
throughout that first day, he kept sneaking glances at you, thinking of way to properly approach you before wrapping his tendrils of darkness around your heart, further trapping you within his web.
with beru and igris talking his ear off, knowing of their king’s desire to capture your heart as well, they were obnoxiously supportive, thinking of ways to help with winning you over. and just as he was ready to approach you-
those damn men had to ruin it all.
jinwoo could see the fear and discomfort in your eyes-
the way you stiffened in response and how you looked like you wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow you whole.
but he stops them from coming any closer to you, using his abilities as the shadow monarch to freeze them, controlling their jerky movements until they were tossed out of the classroom.
later that night, after beru had dealt with them, jinwoo reappears and gazes down at their lifeless bodies.
arise.
he commands their shadows to awaken, tying their souls to him for all eternity as they now obeyed his every desire and whim. even when the teachers questioned their absences, jinwoo made sure to dispose of their corpses. he had thought about erasing everyone’s memories pertaining to them-
but he was achingly aware of how it would alter your memories as well, which made him hesitate when it came to executing it. for now, as long as you remained blissfully unaware, then he would allow yours (and everyone else’s memories) to remain intact.
after all, what did he have to worry about? to the whole world, he was the ideal student, making 100’s on all of his assignments while doing his best to win the heart of the girl he adores. no one has any reason to suspect him of any foul play.
and he was going to use this seemingly perfect image of him to his advantage.
once jinwoo saw you again, he pretends to bump into you, successfully gifting you his freshly made soldiers by having them morph into your shadow as you remained clueless to his abilities.
after all, seeing your smile and how much happier you were with them out of your life was like receiving a piece of heaven for jinwoo. he lived for your laughters and could feel his devotion for you growing by mere seconds.
that was his first act of love and devotion toward you.
and the second act?
i believe we know when that was, too.
red hot anger was felt coursing through jinwoo’s veins when he found you broken and tossed aside, with the contents of your lunch thrown over you. though it pained him a great deal to watch your suffering through the eyes of his shadows, he had to confirm the identity of your pursuers before taking action.
as you sought comfort within his embrace, jinwoo commanded at least a hundred of his soldiers to stalk those who dared to bully you, not even feeling an ounce of regret when not even their corpses were found due to how they had all been ripped to shreds.
jinwoo didn’t bother extracting shadows from his latest victims, knowing that you would be so much happier without any traces of them close to you.
so, as he lay in bed with you sleeping so soundly within his arms, he silently vows his loyalty to you alone. his heart already burning with an inferno of emotions when it came to you and how you made him feel so alive-
and he never wanted this feeling to end.
he would never tell you the truth of his darkness either, or the things he had done to keep you safe and happy, oh no-
for why would he when you could forever remain his precious girl, living in a perfect sandbox that he had made specifically for you, all while swearing to protect it with his life?
all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!
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American Wedding
Leon Kennedy x f!Reader
You've never seen him, you’ve never met him and yet here you are, Mrs Kennedy, a fate that was always to be yours since the day you were born. The golden band on your ringer catches dust at the train station, hoping that at the very least, he's kind.
warnings: this is set in late 1800s. reader is described as having long, silky hair. allusions to mental and physical abuse (not by Leon). misogyny. marriage of convenience. arranged marriage. implied age gap. absolute zero research for era appropriateness.
word count: 3k
a/n: ink write something normal for once challenge = FAILED. i saw an edit of Leon to the song american dream where the lyric goes "M-R-S dot kennedy" and thus i went insane. enjoy whatever the hell this is. or dont idk man sometimes i confuse myself.
You’re alone.
There’s not a soul in sight at the train station, the bench creaking under your weight when you had sat down, hot wind blowing up the dust. There’s nothing but barren land stretching on for miles, littered by small rocks and shrubbery. A tumbleweed had passed when you had been the only person to get off at the station, heavy suitcase in hand, tugging your hat firmly on your head. Steam had exhaled from the engine, the slow rumble of the wheels startling you as it took off.
You has pursed your lips, squinting against the harsh sun as you scoured your new environment. Signage indicating the town you’re in, a decaying wooden shed with old benches and a bored looking clerk snoring behind the barred opening indicating ‘Ticket Counter’.
So you sit and wait. Because what else can you do? You take your hat off, afraid it will blow away by the strong wind, placing it on your lap, hands neatly folding on top of it. Your hair has loosened up from the neat bun your mother had made for you, the strands tugged and pulled by the winds. You glance down at your hands, the gold band glittering on your finger, the familiar sensation of nausea burning at the back of your throat.
It’s a stark contrast against the pure white of your most perfect dress over the most delicate looking corset you had ever seen in your life. You think back to this morning, almost feeling like a lifetime ago, numb to it. It flashes by in your mind in messily taken snapshots; the church, the white dress, your father standing over your shoulder with a stern look on his face, watching like a hawk and ignoring the way your hand shook when you signed the papers.
It was the most luxurious ink pen, black with silver indentations, acquired by your father from his travels. It was perhaps his most precious belonging, cradling it with much care and only brandishing it out to sign all his important deals. And wasn’t that what you were? A deal to be signed away?
So you wrote your name next to the man's who was to own you now, in the pretty cursive you had painstakingly learned under your father's tutelage. You flinch, remembering his screaming when one single line would be out of place. I will accept nothing less than perfection, he would bellow at you, vein throbbing at his temple.
And that’s what you do like the perfect daughter you are.
M-R-S dot Kennedy.
You’re confused why you felt so remorseful, sitting like a hollowed out version of yourself, unable to register your mother’s congratulations, her tears wetting the shoulder of your pristine dress as she held you, your father triumphantly receiving his congratulations from the pastor. You knew this was going to happen, the idea reinforced since the day you could understand words. After all hadn’t your mother met your father like this too?
Your mother had done your hair, delicately twisting your long hair up and decorating them with flowers. Men are kind to pretty things, she had said to assure you, glancing at your blank expression in the vanity of your room. She had softly patted make up on your face, stumbling over her words as she tried to explain what to expect at night. Just...try not to move much, it’ll be over soon.
Your mother had given you a lick of girl hood, doing what she could to let you live past your teenage years without a husband to weigh you down. You were allowed to frolic in the estate on your horse, but not for too long. You have to keep your skin perfect, you don’t want to look like a wrinkled prune for your husband.
You had learnt the ways of the kitchen, mastering dishes after dishes, a reprieve from your father’s tempers, a room he would dare not venture in, instead choosing to snap his fingers at his wife to fetch him whatever he wished.
It was a sanctuary for you and your mother, a place where the shadow of her past self would glimmer, a version you had never known, the version who would tell you stories of the Greek heroes and their tragic ends. She had fought hard for you.
At least that’s what the blue and black bruises on her skin would say.
Your father had glanced at you with pride flashing in his eyes and that had soothed you. Finally you had done something to please him, the soft, awkward pat of his hand at your shoulder, snapping you awake. You couldn’t even revel in it, suddenly finding yourself standing at the train station, ticket in your hand. Your father had said that your husband would pick you up, gruffly saying that it would not be wise to run, to attempt to escape your fate. There would be no kindness then.
Tears gather in your waterline, difficult to discern their cause. The barren landscape makes you want to vomit, a stark contrast from the grassy green pastures of your home. And you consider running, your father’s warning echoing in your ears, just taking off in the direction of the sun, abandoning your suitcase. You won’t survive if you do, with no money or precious jewellery on your person, knowing that you would collapse under the scorching sun. But perhaps that end would be better than whatever life waits for you with your husband.
Leon Kennedy.
The man- your husband, that was supposed to pick you up. Your grip tightens on your lap. Maybe he has forgotten, owing to his graying years, his memory not the way it used to be. You’ve conjured up an image of him, someone old and graying, hair missing from his head but his eyes still full with his youthful lust, scouring his prize up and down like a hungry dog. It makes you retch, panic bubbling in the pits of your stomach. That has to be it. Someone who is too old to be on horseback. Why else would he not be present at the church? To whisk you away himself? To have you as soon as he could?
But its fine, you soothe yourself, you’ll be fine. You’ll keep your head down and be a good wife, no delusions of romance set in your mind. What use was it anyway? Love never saved those Greek heroes, you would be a fool to think it could save you. Maybe if you play up the role of a perfect little wife, swollen with his children, he may allow you some breathing room, some books if he is generous. But its okay, you’ll steel yourself and survive, you’ll leave no room for error. You’ll be his most prized possession.
The sound of crunching gravel makes you snap your head up, the sun piercing in your eyes through your tears. You turn your head to see a horse pulled carriage come to a stop. The man commandeering the vessel hops off from the seat, dust clouding around his pristine shoes. He is sharply dressed, you notice, clad in his black suit. The hat hides his face from you, holding it down with his left hand on his head as he walks over, the shimmer of gold catching your eye. You feel your heart hammer in your chest. The wooden floorboards creek as the man steps up on the platform, taking off his hat when he does and straightening up to his height.
Your breath catches in your throat. He is beautiful, glittering in the afternoon sun, his sun bleached hair falling perfectly across his face. He sports a small stubble, face sculpted like a devoted art piece, cool blue eyes stark against the bronze of his skin, wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes. His suit is pristine, the white of his inner shirt nearly blinding, hiding a well muscled torso from your view, arms bulging against his jacket. He holds his hat against his chest, standing with his hips thrown out, one thigh straddled with a leather holster holding an ivory black revolver. He regards you calmly, eyes stuck to your form before flitting to your suitcase.
You look away, tearing your eyes away from his enraptured form. You feel yourself already failing your promise to be the perfect wife, enamoured by a strange man when a husband awaits for you. So you sit prim and proper, back straightened like you had been taught, ignoring how your heart leapt with every single step he took.
You hope he saves you, takes you roughly by the arm and force you on his carriage, never to be heard from again. After all isn’t that what angels do?
You hold your breath when he comes to stand near you. But still you don’t dare to look at him, hurriedly tugging your hair behind your ear. It’s the way he says your name that freezes you, fingers still against your hair. You’ve never heard it like that before, almost in disbelief, convinced that you heard him wrong. It sounds...sweet, like it means something in the low baritone of his silky voice.
You turn to look at him, the pink of his lips catching your eyes before you avert your eyes, instead focusing on the golden band wrapped around your finger. You nod, spine stiff.
Wordlessly, he picks up the suitcase and shuffles to the side, gesturing towards the carriage with his hat. A world of confusion explodes in your mind, limbs arrested as you struggle to decide what to do. He can’t be him just because he knows your name. Maybe your husband sent someone else in his place, his ranch hand perhaps. You purse your lips, palms slick with sweat as you heave yourself up and begin to walk with shaking steps towards the carriage.
You fix your hat atop your head before stepping into the sun, hiding your hands from the harsh rays should they taint you. You admire the stallion, graceful in his poise, its brown coat gleaming under the afternoon sun, walking around it and reissuing the urge to trace his coat against your fingertips. He looks well loved, well taken care of. You’re too busy staring at the brilliant creature that you don’t notice the man stowing your luggage in the back, hat back on and taking in your dazed form.
He approaches you like how a person would approach an easily startled animal, slowly and silently. He watches as you stiffen up at his presence, holding out his hand to you to help you up. You take it, your soft hand a contrast against his roughed skin, slotting perfectly in his palm. He hold you steady as you climb up, sitting demurely in your seat and wait as he rounds up and joins you. And with a click of his tongue and a tug of the reigns, the two of you begin to move.
This is it, a ball forms in your throat, my last moments of freedom. You close your eyes, feeling the wind fan against your cheeks, savouring the dust that catches in your eyelashes. You blink, watching as the landscape remains unchanged, jostling in your seat against the rough landscape of the road. The man’s presence is burning against you, the cloth of his suit brushing next to the sleeve of your dress. Your eyes flit to his tan hands, fixating on the ring on his left hand. You glance at yours, admiring how similar it looks to yours, yours just a bit thinner than his.
You dare to look up at him, focusing on his side profile. Freckles dot his sun kissed skin, his hair long and caressing his high cheekbones. His eyes are what take you, so blue that it makes you want to drown into them, cool contrasting the suffocating heat. He turns his head and locks gazes with you, heart stuttering in your chest.
“Who are you?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself.
He releases the reigns from his hand closest to you, tipping the brim of his hat, “Leon Kennedy.”
You blink, your heart stuttering. “I… I thought you’d be older.”
He smiles faintly, his gaze turning toward the dusty horizon. “You’re not the first to think that.” There’s a pause. “I suppose I expected…different too.”
If the shock is evident on your face, he doesn’t acknowledge it. But you can feel it in your bones, flooding your whole being. This man is your husband and he is so far beyond from how you imagined him. Your insides twist, forcing you to look away, heat burning your ears.
At least he isn’t hideous to look at. But you don’t let it sway you, knowing that sometimes the prettiest faces hide the ugliest facades, stomach lurching at the thought of various women that he must hide under his arms. And suddenly you find yourself praying that some kindness falls your way.
“I’m sorry for being late,” Leon addresses you softly.
All you can do is meekly shrug your shoulders, mumbling out a “It’s alright.”
The rest of the ride is silent, the sun moving down as the hours pass by, now turning the sky into a deep shade of orange, wisps of cool air around you. Fences start to come in view, the outline of a house appearing in the distance.
Leon pulls the reigns, bringing carriage to a stop, pulling up to grand looking house, clean and proper, the walls a deep shade of brown, looking heavenly against the backdrop of the sky. Your mind is abuzz, throat dry, hoping and pleading that the sun does not leave . You’re frozen in your seat, curious looking laborers gazing at you, suddenly feeling at display.
The carriage jostles as Leon steps off, immediately at your side, looking at you earnestly, more kindly than what you’re used to. He hold out his hand to you and it takes you a few moments before your brain spurs into action, your hand once again enveloped by his. You stare at how your golden ring clicks against his, cool to touch and shining together. He helps you down and you stand like a good wife, waiting as he disappears to grab your luggage, waving away the ranch hand who comes up to offer.
Leon comes to stand next to you, watching you as you watch the house. He clears his throat, your eyes finding his, jutting out his elbow to you. You gulp, slide your hand in the nook of his arm, fingers splayed against his strong bicep, his eyes searching for something in your face before he leads you inside.
Your heart is thundering in your chest. The material of the dress agitates your skin, nervousness grabbing a strong of you. Your mothers words come back to haunt you, remembering how she said laid out the corset and dress on your bed. I...chose this so that it’ll be easier for him, men tend to get...impatient.
You see nothing, smell nothing and feel nothing, eyes rigidly on the floor as you feel yourself slip away like with practiced ease when your father’s loud voice could be heard echoing in the walls, the soothing sensation of paper under your fingers enough to satiate your nerves.
When you blink, you stand in a decent sized room, a four poster bed with cloth draped over it on one side of the room. The colours of the curtains are a soft, pastel blue. There is a dresser, the most beautiful and intricate designs decorating its surface, its size more than sufficient for you to stow away your belongings.
There is a vanity too, grand and delicate looking, a row of expensive looking perfume vials sitting atop the desk, a silver hair brush and a humble selection of make up. Leon sets your suitcase down without a noise, standing at the doorway, hat now gone as he watches you glide around the room admiring the paintings decorating the walls.
A breath hitches in your throat when you finally approach your bed side, eyes widening at the bookshelf tucked away in the corner with a cushioned chair next to it. You trace your fingers against the spine of the books, gasping and pushing your hair behind your ears to get a better look when you spot the book of Greek fables. You clutch it to your chest, tears once again collecting in your eyes as you twist around to look at Leon.
He offers you a small smile, nothing but fondness and gentleness behind it. He grasps the doorknob, beginning to close it behind him. “This is your room. I hope everything is to your liking.”
He glances at you, a flicker of concern crossing his eyes. “If there’s anything you need… anything at all…”
You stiffen at the gentleness in his voice, uncertain of his meaning. “No please, this all is more than enough,” you murmur.
His notices the tear that escapes your waterline. “Rest. You must have had quite the journey to come here.”
And so you dare. “Mr. Kennedy," You call out, making him stop in his tracks, “I...Are we to not...” You lose the strength, letting out a shaky breath as he patiently waits for you to finish your sentence, “We are husband and wife, are we not?” And you hope he understands, mortified at even thinking to speak on the subject with him.
His expression softens, looking at you tenderly, understanding dawning on his face. “Yes, we are. But that is not something you need to worry about. I will never force you to do anything that you do not wish to do.” His smile returns, reassuring you. “And it’s Leon. Only Leon.”
The door shuts and with it you crumble to the floor, pressing the book closer to your chest, the rug soft under your fingers. And you can’t tell if these tears are of despair.
Or if they’re of relief.
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rubberman!kai smut perchance? as in kai having a rubber suit
ur literally my favourite fanfic writer 💙
pairing : kai anderson x reader
Warnings : p in v, rough sex, degrading, its literally kai, improper use of kool-aid, spit
A/n: aaaaah thank you 🫶🫶🫶 im really feeding yall with 2 sober fics back to back
NOT FOR MINORS COMSUMPTION! IF YOU READ FURTHER THIS IS YOUR FAULT NOT MINE!!
"look at this peice of kinky shit i found" kai huffs, throwing a latex suit onto the table your sat at, the material shining under the dim light of the lamp.
"what is it?" you ask kai gently, knowing anything can set him off.
"some fucking rubber suit, i wanna try it out" kai says blankly, cutting straight to the point.
"is it clean? Where did you even find it?" your words are hesitant, not wanting to cause him to snap.
"doesn't matter. Hop up on the table. Or do you want me to force you down instead?"
Without a second thought, you hop up on the table. His lips crash into yours imediately, his fingernails pulling so hard on your shirt that you can hear the thread begin to snap.
He practically rips your shirt off you, not breaking the aggressive kiss at all. You both discard the rest of your clothes.
Kai leaves the room momentarily with the rubber suit, leaving you to desperately roll your hips as you try to cause some sort of friction.
He soon returns, his cock standing proud as i grabs a cut and a pack of kool-aid from the kitchen. After a few more minutes of trying to get any pleasure, he returns, the cup containing kool-aid mixed with something else...
"if you wanna be such a slut then go ahead and drink it" he growls, spitting into the cup and forcing it to your lips.
You reluctantly begin to drink it, the liquid thicker than water. Then it hits you.
Without saying or doing anything, you force yourself to finish it. Placing the cup aside while your thighs rub together needily.
"please kai... I really need you" your voice pleading. You see his eyes turn dark as you call him kai.
"that's not my fuckin' name. Try again or ill leave you like this. All needy and desperate with no way to relief it."
"s-sorry... Master.." you manage to whimper out, your eyes begging for him not to leave.
"that's my good little slut" he grumbles as he tightly grips your cheeks, forcing your lips together as he drains his saliva into your mouth, leaving you no choice but to swallow it.
Without any warning, he roughly pushes your thighs appart, ramming his dick into your silky hole. Your nails dig into his shoulders, loud moans and whines slipping past your lips as his dick burries itself inside you.
Hes so deep inside you swear you can feel it nudging you stomach.
"you like that you fuckin' slut? Just taking all of me like a greedy whore aren't you? Its like you want this or some shit." he groans, his balls slapping against your ass with each aggressive thrust.
You begin to feel a knot forming, your nails begining to draw blood from his shoulders due to how hard your holding onto him.
"AGH! You fuckin' bitch!" kai yells out, slapping you across the face. This is all you need for your walls to tighten around him. This causes him to slap you again as your climax crashes down.
"did i say you could cum yet!? I dont fuckin' think so! Your gonna get punished later you filthy cum slut." his voice is still loud as he clamps a hand around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your breathing but not loose enough for you to move.
After a few more thrusts, his sticky seed paints your walls white. He practically fucks it into you, wanting to increase his chance of you having his messiah baby.
"clean yourself up. I have a meeting to get to" he huffs, quickly giving you a hesitant kiss on your nose as he speedily gets changed. You would have never expected in a million years for him to give you a kiss so it was a pleasant surprise.
Guess you'll have to wait till later to see what your punishment it.
A/n: this was a 2 day process 😭🙏. This was so fun to write because i kinda ran wild with it
Thank you so much for reading! <3
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